


Mirror, Mirror

by EAndropov



Series: Mirror, Mirror Series (Demon!Shane) [1]
Category: Buzzfeed Unsolved (Web Series), Watcher Entertainment RPF
Genre: Angst, Demon Shane Madej, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Horror, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Oblivious Ryan Bergara, Protective Shane Madej, Protective!Shane, Ryan is a ghost hunter and decidely NOT boring, Shane Madej Is So Whipped, Shane Madej Loves Ryan Bergara, Shane is a demonic entity and hes bored, Slightly slow burn, idk spooky stuff i guess, protective!ryan, shyan
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-22
Updated: 2021-02-22
Packaged: 2021-03-12 16:20:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,457
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29637300
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EAndropov/pseuds/EAndropov
Summary: “Things only change when we change them. But you have to do it.” After falling asleep for a couple decades longer than he intended, a demon wakes up to find a cluster of humans investigating the humble shack he choose. And by humble, he means ‘mansion,’ and by ‘investigating,’ he means walking around in the dark like fools with little flashlights and asking questions like ‘Who’s there?’ to the wind.  After some serious contemplation, Shane answers, ‘Oh, just me.’ [first in Mirror Mirror Series]
Relationships: Ryan Bergara/Shane Madej
Series: Mirror, Mirror Series (Demon!Shane) [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2177685
Comments: 3
Kudos: 46





	1. Spookys Ghosts

**Author's Note:**

> This is prolly gunna be a 3 or 4 parter? I’ll either keep adding to it, like random one shots or episodes. Orrr I’ll end it here but make it the beginning to a series of separate one shots. I’m not sure which I like better. >>; Advice is desired lmao, hmu!

_"Mirror mirror on the wall_  
_can you picture me at all?_  
_I could be whatever I want to be..."_

**Part I. Spooky Ghosts**

A couple hundred thousand years can get a tad mundane after a while. Doing the same old thing, haunting the same old haunts. Tormenting the same old souls. And even if time passed for the souls, at the end of the day those were the same, too. time didn't pass for you, when you were more or less slightly old as Time. 

Everything had gotten so…boring.

A demon in man’s disguise could only witness a couple hundred hangings and drawn-and-quarterings before even _those_ lost their luster, too. Which…was that insensitive? Okay, so maybe it was. Sue him. Only good luck, since Shane Madej hadn’t existed for over eight decades, and the creature currently wearing his meat sack of a body was not in the mood nor mind for legal troubles. _That_ wasn’t fun. This? _This_ was fun. His new life was exciting.

Humans, when they were happy or over stimulated with a human emotion, were pretty fun to bleed off of. Sure, technically, it was a mass of pudding that operated a meat sack around some hardened calcium and some thin flesh wires that were nerves. But that mass of pudding made some delicious stuff! Shane was maybe 200 years old when he discovered any human emotion could be siphoned from and devoured by him for power and energy.

Fear worked too, it always had. But fear got old, especially for Shane. (Even worse if the human up and died of fright—that was about the human equivalent of dropping a fresh apple pie face down on the floor. Boom. No more snack time, and now you had to escort a soul who, usually, wasn’t very happy with you for killing them.)

Other demons knew of it, and he wasn’t the only oddity…but Shane was one of the rare ones. And because he was strange and unusual, he was challenged over it. Some humans he enjoyed were threatened, and you should never ever challenge what belongs to a Demon, not even if you yourself were another one. He’d made the mistake of wandering upstairs so often to Earth that he soon learned humans had created their own forms of entertainment. His power grew, and his opinions did too. Humans were the best entertainment there was in the whole universe, and he had watched Jupiter be made.

The first coliseum fight? Oof, stuff of legends. First chariot race? Heart pounding! First ship to make it out of port and sail the uncharted oceans, where dragons be? Fantastical!

Carnivale. Masquerades. Theatre. Museums. Steamliners. Sculptures. Celebrations. Moving pictures-now _those_ had been something. And then some schmuk named Walt and his team had decided to one up those by drawing little images a hundred thousand times and putting them together to sound and music. Actual, living _moving_ Art. Pictures made painstakingly by a species that was on Earth for a fucking blink of Shane’s eye _._ Just…Humans. Shane can’t exactly pinpoint the date or even the year—even the decade, really—that something in him had changed. But it had. And he was Different now, and not one of his species ever let him forget it.

What was so special about Destruction, he’d tried to argue? _Anyone_ could destroy something. Even the weakest demon could topple a candle, start a blaze, collect souls by the handful and drag them down to Hell. It took someone special, someone different, something not boring, to _Create._ Creation was, as far as Shane had always been taught, kind of a Big-Guy-Up-There-In-His-Cloud-Deal. But now **humans** were running around doing it! Just like that! God didn’t snap his fingers, Noah built the fucking Ark with two hands and some tools and his sons. Shane the demon had seen enough wars to last longer lifetimes than even his. Wars were….well, alright, thrilling. Sure. Yes. After a couple centuries, Shane still hadn’t lost the slow burn of bloodlust and desire to fight sometimes. He was sure he never would. But Wars and Fights and Battles? Endlessly? _Nothing_ more? Just Misery and Despair and Darkness and Death? Well, they ended the same. And war determines not who is right but who is _left,_ and when those poor people left weren’t exactly in the best state of mind? What good was there? What fun to be had?

Yeah, see? _Boring._ Shane much preferred watching humanity create and explore their world. Sometimes they sucked at it, looking at you Columbus, you two-faced prick.

Sometimes, though? Sometimes…they did amazing, wonderful, world changing things. Da Vinci was just about the most coolest dude the demonic entity had ever met. Van Gogh needed lots of help but his passion for his art had left ripples in the world that were still left to this day. Humans looked at birds and wanted to fly. Looked at the ocean, decided swimming wasn’t enough. They wanted to sail. They had even, as far as Shane could garner, set their sights on the stars. Just… apparently aiming for the nearest celestial body, the moon. And beyond.

When left alone, humans made castles in the sand.

How _amazing_ was that? Shane was fascinated.

After a while, though, Shane noticed an uprising trend of depression and uncertainty among the humans he enjoyed. As technology advanced rapidly—what the hell was wrong with a good old cart and horse, anyway? Cars seemed dangerous and imperfect still, and this was coming from the guy who could fly by use of magic and his own massive wings!—humanity seemed to…get lost in the shuffle, as technology grew and flourished. Almost? Hard to explain. But he knew he didn’t like it. The world seemed smaller and smaller. It was starting to bum him out. Maybe he was just tired? Only…demons didn’t get tired.

A thing called an atom bomb was invented. And for Shane it seemed that, almost overnight, the world started to live in fear at a much larger scale than, say, whatever the Spanish Armada had been able to pull off. Suddenly widespread Destruction was as simple as the push of a damn button, or the ring of a phone. One person governing the lives of thousands.

Shane had, by now, somewhat mastered emotions and receptions in his soul and mind. At first he was confused by the realization that, in his opinion, the world was better off not creating.

Maybe Creating wasn’t as great as he’d chalked it up to be. Maybe his favorite subjects to study had Created things that were better off left unknown. Sure, someone had created the guillotine. Someone had created guns and ammo. But those things, they seemed so small and simple in the face of…whatever the world was dealing with now. And it would only get worse, wouldn’t it?

It had taken about two or three months, but then Depression settled into Shane’s weary and old soul. It consumed him. He didn’t know why. He didn’t know how. He had, unknowingly, gained more from humans than just the Positives unfortunately. And he could never go back to what he was. So, he did the one thing he had left to do. He slept. It was only supposed to be for a little while.

Rip Van Winkle must have said the same thing.

* * *

The year was 19…19…? 19-whenever-the-hell. He has no clue. Demons have great mental compasses, and near perfect mimicry to blend in with potential prey, but by and large they were useless at concepts like Time. Especially when Time was a concept created by humans, and worse, was created very poorly.

To his day he’d never figured out helldamned time zones. But thankfully, he noticed half the population around him never seemed to get it either. So that was fine.

The year had been 1943…or 4? Possibly. He was pretty sure. He wouldn’t play Vegas rules with it, but yeah. Late 30’s or early 40’s. Where was he? _When_ was he?

Still _where_ he’d left himself. Good. That was good. The ‘when’ though, wouldn’t be answered until he found some humans and either eavesdropped or picked up a newspaper. They still had those things, right?

Shane yawned, all smoke and smog and fuzzy around the edges. He was crammed comfortably between wall spaces. Thin like fog and black like coal, with maybe one or two ruby-bright eyes that were sometimes visible if you knew where to look. Human homes were built with little gaps and nooks and crannies. And they were often dark and dank and quiet as the grave. In a word, for Shane, it was cozy. Familiar.

Demons didn’t sleep.

But then, Shane did a lot of things demons had no business partaking in.

He was hungry. Not in the pint of ale and leg of mutton way, more in the ‘any juicy looking humans with lots of emotion around here?’ way. After however long his Depression nap was, he wasn’t wholly surprised to be hungry. He didn’t want to lose his control though, and go on a chomping spree. That wouldn’t make friends and influence people!

But this old joint had been abandoned by the time _he’d_ found it, so he was pretty sure he was up a river—

“H-hello? Is someone there?”

“Anyone?”

The demonic entity went from relaxed cat to coiled cobra, ready to strike.

What was this, then? Despite his Depression and general Lack of Will to Exist, his curiosity smoldered in his center. The demon shook off sleep and exhaustion—the Depression lingered, sadly—and focused his finer features and abilities.

 _Souls._ Humans. Young, too. Always more to feed off of. And, if Shane was going to be totally honest, he felt easier to blend in with younger humans. They were a bit smarter and more likable than teenagers but hadn’t lost their zest for life yet.

The voices dropped to a soft din. Floorboards creaked. They were moving away.

Shane opened more than just his eyes, and crept from his sleeping spot.

His human body, the somewhat suspended corpse he kept nice and fresh and clean, was waiting on the side lines if need be, in a sort of…in-between places. But he didn’t think he’d need it just yet. And, anyway, he had a good reason to stay hidden.

Appearing as a demon—bad. Appearing as a random human in possibly period-off clothing? Eh, arguably worse. Especially if he wanted future meals from these humans. And he was tired enough he knew he wasn’t on his game—if one got away? Humans multiplied like rats, which is actually A compliment coming from him. But they still did, and where there were two, there could be ten or twenty more in the time it took for someone to scream ‘ghost!’ And anyway, Shane liked this nesting spot. And he didn’t feel like giving it up or defending it.

Jury was still out though on how to handle this potential snack; he wanted a good look first, like when you look over produce for the shiniest apple.

Less than fifteen minutes late, Shane spotted his apple.

 _‘Well, aren’t we the little exposed nerve?’_ Shane chuckled to himself, slithering up along a crawlspace and perching in a rafter as he eyed the short male below him. _‘Why come here then, fool? Scared out of your mind and nothing’s happened yet.’_

He scratched at the joint where his red wings met his shoulder, longing to unfurl them and flex aching and taught muscles. But…eh, not a great choice. The chandelier already looked like it was hanging by a thread. And, as stated before, there was no Fun in simply murdering any human that crossed his path.

He could be patient. He could wait.

And in any case, he felt a familiar pulse of curiosity smoldering in within him.

It had been ages since _that_ had happened.

* * *

The human male’s name was Ryan. Shane hadn’t heard his surname yet, but he was keeping his pointed ears pricked. The other kids were…eh, unimportant. Shane was focused on Ryan, and intended to stay that way.

Ryan was ‘chicken-shit’ which Shane correctly surmised as ‘yellow-bellied.’ Scared, fraidy-cat.

But he was still following his friends into this so called haunted mansion. And he had ventured off to other rooms by himself for a short period of time. Sure, he’d gone scurrying back like a mouse escaped from a trap each time the wind so much as whispered, but his antics and bold desire to keep exploring was fascinating to Shane all the same.

Shane eyed the peeling walls, the cracked plaster, sniffed the mildew smogged air. He almost sneezed.

_‘Whoops. Guess I slept harder than I planned.’_

Sleeping demons, especially powerful sleeping demons, tended to attracted…other stuff. Weird stuff.

Nothing major, not that he could pinpoint. And perhaps him waking up had chased off any smaller spirits. Wise choice, even if Shane wasn’t really as aggressive as his kin. The spirits didn’t need to know that. Not even anything that could be considered a threat. But enough that must have festered, without Shane’s meaning to, because according to these humans, the place had built its own reputation over the years.

_‘Maybe I better look for new territory sooner rather later.’_

Shane also learned Ryan was hungry for a faire called ‘Taco Bell’ which sounded bizarrely fascinating—that the chilly Fall air was getting to all of them, and that the little handheld device in his white-knuckled grip _should_ ‘capture any and all spirits’ on film for them to look at later.

Shane had wanted so badly to see what that little instrument was all about, but he forced himself to remain distant. It was getting hard though, and twice now the sensitive and jumpy Ryan had spooked when the walls creaked and the old house betrayed Shane’s movements.

“Let’s try again….is anyone with us that wants to speak with us?”

 _‘Well what the hell kind of question is that?’_ Shane fought a snort.

The little pack waited in tense, icy cold silence. It was too much for Shane. His own demonic nature snickered to life under his skin.

“…whose’ there?” it was Ryan this time, his voice hiding such a thin tremor despite his ever assertion he was brave and unbothered. It was adorable, at least to the demonic entity it was.

He couldn’t help it! He wanted to see what would happen.

“Oh…just me.” His voice answered back. To his credit he projected it, throwing it across the room and down a floor easily. Projection was easy, always had been. And it was great for herding humans somewhere you did—or didn’t—want them to go.

The room erupted into chaos.

_“Yoo!!”_

“Did you guys hear that!?”

“Record— _record!_ Get it going—oh man!”

Ryan merely screamed.

Another bout of fear blossomed into Shane’s senses, and he felt almost dizzy from it.

His entire frame bristled in pleasure, his wings quivering, tail lashing. He dug ruby claws into old wood and bit his forked tongue when the humans below noted the sounds.

_‘Awh, Hell.’_

This was getting nowhere. It was fun! But Ryan was less excited than the others, he seemed to be straddling somewhere between Sheer Terror and Thrill, and until he choose a side to lean toward it was like a hundred bright lights flashing on and off against Shane’s overtired and groggy senses. He needed to think of something, needed a better plan. Maybe Shane wasn’t human, but he’d masqueraded as one long enough, he felt he could figure something out.

Improvisation was Demonic Entity 101, after all. A parlor trick. But, style? Now, _that’s_ what people remembered.

* * *

“N-nothing’s else is happening man, c’mon. Let’s blow this place.” His lackadaisical attitude was mostly fractured by the whites of his eyes showing, or the prickle in his body language. He ran a sweaty hand over his jeans, hoped his pals didn’t notice.

They did, and they teased him endlessly for it.

But soon, Ryan got his way, and they were leaving.

It was twilight, just barely. And outside the dark and abandoned hilltop mansion was orange-gold light and brisk air and sleepy crickets trying to manage some noises. Summer was ending, but here in good ole’ Cali summer didn’t really end, just mellowed out a tad.

The drive from the gravel road back to the main stretch was long enough his stomach began growling. The trip back to actual, florescent illuminated civilization almost put him to sleep. But soon enough Ryan Bergara and his friends were sitting down in the closest Taco Bell establishment.

He unwrapped the bundle of fast food and dug in, caught up in the relief of warm chow and warm atmosphere as he and his friends joked and wondered about what they had caught on camera, if anything in that dismal joint. The mansion and its ghosts seemed so far behind, a story to go back and dissect later, when he wasn’t so scared he wanted to cry or piss himself, or possibly both. And hoping that weird voice that answered him got caught on one of their mics, but if it didn’t, Ryan at least felt justified.

Maybe they really did have a show here. Maybe Buzzfeed would pick it up? Even for just one season?

In the back of the restaurant, dressed only a little bit shabby and not much out of place to be of any notice, a young man eyed his own food critically. However, after studying Ryan’s actions, began to mimic him carefully and tucked into his own food.


	2. Haunted Messages

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've gotten some of this already written/planned. So here's anther update! Thank you for the comments/kudos so far 8>

**Part II. Haunted Messages**

“My camera went out again…”

“Oh, that is creepy. It’s almost like buying off-brand batteries is maybe a bad idea?”

“Shut up, Shane.”

The taller of the two cackled, but dug out a fresh pack and held them out for his co-Host anyway.

“Here, use mine.” He could keep his tech powered by himself, but Ryan didn’t need to know that. “Hey, look, I get it! But it’s happened twice.”

“That’s not proof enough for you?” Ryan demanded as he fiddled with plastic and shoved the little power sources into place. Shane watched with no small amount of fascination. He’d never get tired of learning and watching from Ryan.

“Twice is just book ends, Ry. Three times, well, now…that’s the _Devil’s_ number, init?” He let his voice drawl to a lazy, hinting whisper of doom. It was somewhat dampened by his cock-eyed shit eating grin.

“You are insufferable.” Ryan complained.

He was, wasn’t he? And it was great.

 _This_ was great. This…thing Shane had gotten himself into. He loved it.

Sure, he could take or leave a 9 to 5 job. Could take or leave the corporation they worked under. Youtube was a whole other beast on its own. Buzzfeed Unsolved was popular though, and Ryan and his bosses were capitalizing on it. After getting a peek at the current state of the world, and brushing up on all he had missed, Shane couldn’t totally blame them.

As near as he could tell, he and Ryan were oddities in the ghost hunting and investigating world.

Who didn’t want to bring a skeptic along, after all? Shane thought himself pretty clever, but Ryan was the _most_ clever. Granted, Shane was a bit biased. The first good meal in nearly sixty some years, and one that could provide just about every emotion across the board? Yeah, in a word, Ryan was prime rib and caviar and Shane was a starving man let in from the desert with an ‘all you can eat’ card. And, well. Demons tended to obsesses. So long as he kept it healthy and didn’t scare or freak out the little guy, Shane saw no harm in his actions.

Besides, between a literal traveling meal ticket of a human, Shane was _also_ getting to see the world again. Relearn society. He still kind of hated driving cars, but there was other stuff he could get into and enjoy. Jurassic Park had just about restarted his heart.

“God—dammit, _again!”_

Shane hid his grimace as Ryan turned. Electronics, however. Those were taking some getting used. Especially ones in the vicinity of him when they were on hunts, and he was already on edge. There were so…many of electrical based things now. Different devices, smaller and sleeker. Smarter, too. Human smart. It kind of irked Shane out a little, and he was still learning how to manipulate them for his own needs. He liked his phone but he had a feeling that was common. A few enchantments and wards had made it perfectly customized to him and his needs.

Others, though? Yeah, not so freaking much.

“Last set, Ry. I’m cutting you off.” Shane warned with a tease.

“This is ridiculous, we just opened that box of batteries.” The guy complained, and while he had every right to do so, Shane just shrugged and said in his usual Shane way:

“Eh, well, what’ya gunna do?”

“Not gunna get proof, that’s what.” Ryan bitched, “Not footage, investigation is a bust. I’m a laughing stock. Show goes up in flames, get fired, live on the streets. You—uh, you, I guess…”

“Me?” Shane grinned. “You get fired, I quit. Plain and simple.” Where Ryan went, he would go. But he wasn’t sure if that wouldn’t sound creepy, so he kept it to himself.

Ryan paused in his battery switching. Shane made a mental note to keep his powers even more pushed down than he was already attempting. There were some caveats to being a Nearly All Powerful Semi-cosmic Demonic Entity. Church grounds and holy water allergies aside, of course.

“You would?” Ry blurted, and Shane blinked, canting his head in that unintentionally creepy manner.

“Yeah! I’m not just going about my business at Buzzfeed without my best friend. Jeez, you think I’m heartless?” a loaded question if ever there was one.

“What? No! I didn’t say that,” Ryan groaned and Shane wished he could point out how red the young man’s cheeks were. He couldn’t, of course. It was too dark for human eyes and would stay that way until Ryan got his equipment repowered.

“Well you _implied_ it!” But Ryan had made good points. Shane scowled thoughtfully as he eyed the walls of the old asylum. A place like this, unlike his previous nesting spot, was sure enough haunted. No demons, but absolutely some confused and stupid poltergeists—their human energies long gone and no way to live off of. Some traumatized spirits, one angry doctor that had taken a single step at Ryan when they first entered.

Then the old fucker had seen Shane step in behind him and stare, just stare.

Shane hadn’t seen the coward since.

“Let’s try the spirit box.”

“Oh, yippie.” Shane muttered sardonically.

They wandered deeper through the old halls, winding around back toward some unworking elevators. Ryan’s logic was that they might hear more stuff if they were in a place more people had frequented in the past. It was good logic, but Shane couldn’t give him that.

 _‘Run!’_ urged a voice, er, many voices. Static erupted from the box, so much so that Ryan heard more than felt Shane grumble and take a few steps back.

_‘Leave—while—‘_

_‘He’s—Righ—be—hin—ou!’_

“What was that?” Ryan demanded, forcing his voice to stay clear and calm as he could muster. “Can you say that again?”

_‘—ook! Behin--!’_

“Look. Behind.” Ryan unraveled the strange, garbled clues on instinct, and he pivoted in place immediately, every hair on his neck prickled in phantom anxiety.

Shane stared back at him, scratching the back of his with a gangly arm, and shrugged in boredom. Ryan made an unsure face back, and felt himself relax. Nothing was behind him or Shane, far as he could tell. Just the dark hall leading to more rooms. And Shane seemed far from bothered.

“I didn’t hear you.” Ryan tried to coax. The spirit box gurgled and mumbled in his palm. Static coughed and spat.

“Say that again. Is someone here?”

But the spirit (spirits?) apparently couldn’t, or wouldn’t speak up again.

After 30 more terrible seconds, Ryan switched the speaker off with a noise of disappointment.

“Sounded like we should leave~” Shane’s smirk was insufferable as ever, but someone how Ryan felt a bit better. Shane wasn’t rattled. Why should he be? “Guess the place didn’t have good reviews on Yelp, eh?”

“Yeah. They did say that doctor used to experiment on people and he was…uh…not great… About them.”

“Yeah, well, I’d want to check outta this place too.” Shane agreed. “Sounds like hell, having to be trapped here.”

“Yeah…” more than once it was alluded by Shane that his fears involved being trapped somewhere. Losing freedom. Ryan couldn’t blame the guy totally. Everyone was scared of something, Shane’s fears just happened to be more…esoteric. Like randomly getting addicted to fucking heroin and loss of freedom and control. At least bears made sense—they were terrifying.

And yet, somehow, Shane was the most laid back guy Ryan had ever encountered. He was almost sure the guy would be dead for two years before he noticed. It was a fun joke between them, and the comment always made Shane laugh.

“Where else do we have to go in this joint?” his co-Host jerked his shaggy head toward the stairs.

“H-huh? Oh, uh, basement. Where the Doctor-Dude did his worst stuff.” Ryan reported what he could recall from his research.

“Oh, Ryan.” Shane tsked like a disappointed school teacher. “That is _so_ cliché.”

“What! Bite me, Shane.”

“Eh, rather be shot than poisoned.” Shane laughed, and the sound calmed Ryan in such odd ways.

* * *

The basement was exactly what Shane expected. Unfortunately it was worse than Ryan, which was rare since his imagination tended to run will with him.

“Oh, this… _this_ is nice.” Shane joked lazily as he eyed the place.

“Shane, I swear to God,” Ryan’s sneakers hit the cement behind him and he hissed out a groan of distress. “Ohhhh my god, fuck,”

“Yeah, it’s not good.” Shane agreed. “I don’t think the cleaning crew’s been around in a while, Ry!”

Shane’s jokes and jabs were working, but not to a degree that made Ryan feel ok. And so Shane didn’t either. This was creepy evil dead doctor territory for sure, a spirit so wrathful and bitter he could almost taste the entity. And unlike Ryan’s rather lemony and kinda zesty-fresh scent, this was old rotted and, frankly, disgusting.

Shane wrinkled his nose in disgust, but smoothed his features by the time he turned to check on his human.

“Whatcha’ thinkin’, man?” He thought he was picking up current era lingo pretty gosh darn well, if he did say so himself!

“Ahh…dammit, I was thinking…we could…” Ryan’s eyes rolled around, trying to take it all in at once. “we could…”

Ryan seemed lost in thought, terrified, distracted, or all three at once. It put even laid back Shane on edge.

“…Ry? What just happened here, did _you_ short circuit on me? You need _your_ batteries changed, buddy?” Shane tried to keep the coo from his tone but it was hard. The little dumbass was adorable.

“Shut up, f-fuck,” Ryan’s usual comment was more strained and stressed than his earlier quips back. “Look, does it feel…c-cold in here, man?”

“Ye-aah. It’s a _basement.”_ Said Shane slowly. “We’re underground. Earth’s crust make dark box chilly—”

“Go fuck yourself Shane! No, I k-know, just…” Ryan’s voice slurred.

Shane wondered why, and then noticed too late. His bemused expression widened to sharp shock and alertness in the time it took for Ryan to still and his eyes to glaze over. 

“Hey—!”

Creepy Evil Doctor Dude vanished directly into Ryan’s back, and his human stumbled on his sneakers. Ryan’s equipment crashed to the ground.

Shane blinked once, the cameras and mic going out. No trace. No evidence. And he was getting better at manipulating all this electrical junk they had to strap to themselves near constantly for this damn job. He jerked his head sharply to the right, and the door behind Ryan leading upstairs slammed closed and locked with a rusty creek. No escape. He just hoped Ryan couldn’t see any of this. If Shane had to get mad, had to go at the entity…he didn’t want Ryan to see it as Shane coming for him, because that what it would like. And Shane could be…was…scary. He wasn’t a big fan of memory wipes either but if he had to, he would…

The spirit didn’t have enough motor control over Ryan to do anything like switch the recording devices back on, which was good. Nor did he seem willing to bolt out of Shane’s space either and run off with his new vessel. But the creepy motherfucker was in Ryan now, almost fully, which was bad. Damn, Shane didn’t realize how easy Ryan would be to just…take over like that. He made a mental note to try and fix that later. Being a sponge had its downsides, unfortunately.

“Alright, listen.” Shane kept his tone firmly on levity. “You, hijacking my buddy’s body. That’s a no fly zone, pal. So I’m gunna have to ask you to vacate the premises before I get **really** mad.”

Ryan laughed, the sound sickly and echoing, like he was under water. It wasn’t Ry’s laugh at all, and Shane curled a lip for a second before switching back to casual affirmation. There was only one way this ended, and it wasn’t going to be bad for Ryan.

“You? What are you going to do, demon?” Ryan’s voice dropped like the temperature around them. He sounded less and less like himself as the seconds ticked by. “Or are you even a demon? I’ve never seen one with a human, let alone one who behaves and obeys so well. What are you, his _pet?”_

Shane cursed, but kept his eyes open in defiance for a split second. He blinked again, and black clouded his sclera when he opened his gaze. Red, glowing stars replaced his pupils. He stared evenly at the spirit in possession of his new favorite’s body.

“Okay, you know what, fair.” Maybe he deserved that jab. Any one of his own kind would have accused him of worse. “You been watching us since we got here, huh?”

And the whole time, yeah, he _had_ been following Ryan around. Deferring _to_ him, letting _him_ take lead on his cute little investigation. Wandering without purpose or aim, bending to every whim of the guy, even the whims that arguably hurt or could end up hurting Shane. The spirit box was like an ice pick in his ear. He’d even let some spirits communicate, just enough. He got Ry his precious proof to keep the show juicy, but not enough for actual evidence. He’d followed the guy to the basement, and he’d stepped in first when Ryan bitched switching places. He’d done everything except for roll over and expose his throat for the kid. Dammit all. 

And, sure, the ghosts had used their second of radio air to warn Ryan. Shane knew they weren’t talking about the good old doctor, either. He was impressed, that the denizens seemed so intent to protect a living human instead of torment it. Probably because they had been tormented enough and knew what it was like.

Except Shane was _nothing_ like this fucker, and if he had a chance to sit down with the ghosts he would say that, but he doesn’t. For an ageless creature he doesn’t have any time at all. He has Ryan’s time, in his hands right now. What he does next will be for all the marbles, Shane knows.

“You’re small potatoes here, buddy. I’m not gunna ask you again.” And Shane took a step, shoulders squared up to his full, towering height. “Get. **Out.”**

“Harming me harms your little friend here, though, demon.” The name spat like a curse, except Shane is the one with the skill in curses.

“Alright.” He conceded, for a split second. “Goodbye.”

Oujia boards were right about one thing. It’s always expected to send something off with that.

So when Shane Madej smiles, it is full of teeth. 

* * *

Bone had only just stopped splintering and remolding away when he felt a second cluster of spirits creeping up on them.

Shane spat out black ichor, using a red claw longer than Ryan’s finger by twice to pick his teeth and rid himself of the gunk he’d gotten caught in his maw. Shane remains casual, slouched posture and lazy eyes but they dart toward the direction of the right wing of the basement. His one remaining wing twitches in disagreement when he feels they are much too close to his and Ryan’s space. They all halt as one, and twitch backwards. Good. He banished his last wing and nestled it alongside the others. More room, now, with those blasted things out of this plane.

“Anyone else?” He asked without no small amount of growing ire.

The ghosts stared back, some leaning out of sight, but most of them manage shakes of their heads. Their white eyes and moon-bright faces turn toward the figure slumped safely against the wall.

Shane didn’t move, but he stared in calm, brutal challenge. He wasn’t even out of breath, and they knew that. They had seen everything, from the possession to the threat, to Shane snuffing their nightmare out like a candle without a second’s hesitation. 

_‘You…saved him.’_ They ghosts are so old and so adjusted to one another, they speak as one. Several voices filter and peter out at him, some weaker and some stronger. The poltergeists, who cannot talk without their human-soul-battery present, flutter in confusion.

“Sure did.” Shane can’t keep the smug flicker of pride from his voice or his twitching, spaded tail. The thing was as long as he was tall, and gone are the days of him not being used to it. He turns on his heel, sweeping his tail through the dust to scuffle and disturb the remains of the fight. Well, to be more precise target practice.

 _‘But you’re…a you-know-what.’_ Names have power, even titles to describe. Rule number 2 in Demonology 101, baby. Smart ghosts.

“Sure am.” Shane cackled and wrenched some old bone from the back of his jaw, which relaxed closed and he made a small noise of relief. Ugh, bones. Only tasty part was the marrow anyway, but these were so old and brittle it was like chewing ice that didn’t melt. Still, any job worth doing was worth doing right, wasn’t it?

 _‘…thank you.’_ The tones are relieved, and earnest and ashamed. Lots of humans, lots of emotions. They are a chorus of tinny murmurs and whispers and it’s close to getting on even this chill demon’s nerves. Battling an evil soul for your new favorite will do that to a guy, though.

Shane hums, but says nothing.

He knows what he technically did was Good. But it wasn’t like there was anyone around to tell, so what did it matter?

* * *

Ryan woke and shot straight up, nearly colliding with Shane who wheeled back sharply to avoid a collision. Still, his large hand clapped onto the ghost hunter’s shoulder with a tight, steadying grip. Warmth seemed to flood his frame, and Ryan shivered.

“Hey, whoa man!” Shane, the prick, laughed! “You all good?”

“W-what happened?” He demanded, wondering exactly what shock felt like. It must have been this, right? Shane was always warm but this felt insane, like every nerve in Ryan’s body was ten times more sensitive. He fought his trembles, and prayed Shane didn’t remove his comforting hand.

“You fainted. We didn’t even get to check out the basement, man.” Shane supplied with his usual annoying air of causality.

Ryan tore his focus from his friend—his…best friend? It felt like he’d known the dumbass scarecrow for, like, forever—and drank in their surroundings.

“What? We left?” he sat back onto the brick of a bed and forced himself to relax. “The--the hotel? Why—“

“Oh did you want to wake up in that dismal joint, Ry? I mean, sheesh, look. There weren’t any ghosts, but it kinda had a ‘and the abyss also gazes into you’ kinda vibe.” Shane shot him a half smirk and sat back. The dent in the bed and the crumpled sheets suggested Shane had been hanging around him for as long as Ryan had been placed here. a bolt of affection flourished in Ryan’s center. Sure, he was a jackass, but Shane could be weirdly thoughtfully when the chips were down.

“Yeah, it did, yeah.” What little he could remember of the asylum anyway. “…we didn’t get… _anything?_ Maybe I fainted because, uh, because a ghost—hey! Stop laughing!”

“I’m not laughing, Ry!” He was. “Hey you can check the feed. But you taking a lil nap threw your equipment outta whack when you ate shit dude. And when I hauled your ass outta there, mine got busted.”

“Busted?”

Shane jerked his thumb to the pile of cracked cameras and harness and wires. It looked a bit more than busted but Ryan found all he cared about was the current state it was in, not the how or why.

“Awh, man. We had four more payments left on that one…”

“I’ll spot ya.” Shane assuaged without hesitation, lips doing that coy smile again. “Just take it easy for the rest of the night, yeah? We got some footage, I’m sure the viewers will understand.”

Ryan sighed, but nodded. He really was still exhausted, like his blood sugars had plummeted with him. That must have been it, he had been burning the candle at both ends lately. Shane had only just joined the crew, and Ryan had been running solo while he tried to replace Brent. 

As if reading his mind, Shane suddenly seemed to perk up. “Wanna grab some Taco Bell? I’ll get it.”

“You and your burritos, man.” Ryan felt some of his anxiety ease away further. Good old Shane. “Yeah, deal.”

Shane grinned, with less teeth this time but no less amusement. He was glad Ryan didn’t know, but he couldn’t admit the humor of the situation wasn’t lost on him.

And besides, ghosts were like carbs, especially spirits so wrapped up in their own anger and so warped from their hatred. All substance, no filling. He was absolutely starving after his little appetizer, after all.

**Author's Note:**

> Shane’s presence and actions are, ultimately, what starts Buzzfeed Unsolved. Womp womp.


End file.
